


Forever Not Yours

by Empy (Empyreus)



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Acting, Addiction, Alcohol, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Anger, Attraction, Bars and Pubs, Begging, Biting, Bruises, Clubbing, Confrontations, Dancing, Desire, Dominance, Drinking, Drunkenness, Fear, First Time, Frottage, Groping, Hand Jobs, Held Down, Insomnia, Internalized Homophobia, Kissing, Lust, M/M, Making Out, Morning After, On Set, Panic, Pole Dancing, Regret, Responsibility, Rough Sex, Roughness, Scratching, Seduction, Sexual Confusion, Shame, Sleep, Song Lyrics, Staring, Teasing, Touching, Undressing, Walk Of Shame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-06-26
Updated: 2002-06-26
Packaged: 2018-02-06 07:06:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1848943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Empyreus/pseuds/Empy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being attracted to Orlando meant nothing -- he was drunk, he was starved for sex and Orlando was Orlando.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forever Not Yours

**Author's Note:**

> I'm stubbornly claiming Sean's hair is his own and not a wig. It is not integral to the story, however.
> 
> Thanks to my betas [](http://littlemimm.livejournal.com/profile)[**littlemimm**](http://littlemimm.livejournal.com/) and Syro for the wonderful job they did. (And extra love to Mimm for being so patient.)

Sean reminded himself for the fourth time within the last hour that he would never, ever, go drinking with Orlando again. Ever. Bad enough that he himself stuck out like a sore thumb among all the trendy younglings, worse that Orlando was completely at home among them. Sean was an old man compared to them, and Orlando's teasing words from earlier on came back to him: You'll fit right in, you old hippie. That long hair and goatee are just right.

Just right for what? Making a prat of himself?

Still, he'd given in, partly because he felt like relaxing a little, and partly because he would have agreed to almost anything to get Orlando to stop affecting his lethal pout.

Orlando was dancing now, as he had been almost all of the night, stopping only long enough to knock back a virulently-coloured drink at the bar and try to coerce Sean into joining him on the dance floor. Sean had declined every time, nursing only enough drinks to keep the comforting buzz going. He wasn't going to get arsed this time. Not with Orlando around. Having witnessed Orlando's relentless poking fun of Dominic's drunken escapades, Sean had decided firmly he would never be on the receiving end of those taunts.

He was content with watching. Orlando dancing was a sight to behold. The young man danced like there was no tomorrow, like the rest of the world had ceased to exist. There was only Orlando in Orlando's little world, only Orlando high on the music and the countless shots he had swept. People drew to him like moths to a flame.

Sean hated this type of music, but as Orlando spun on the dance floor, it all seemed worth it. Seeing Orlando's sweat-sheened face as he twirled like a deranged dervish, his mohawk sweat-tufted, something gave a strange flutter inside Sean. Orlando was more graceful than he could ever be. He owned a certain stealth, but nothing like that of the lithe body moving in time with the rapid, maddening drum beat that thundered like his own crazed heartbeat. The muscle shirt Orlando was wearing was sticking to his skin, and Sean imagined he could clearly see the erect nipples, pushing at the fabric, inviting to pinch them, bite them…

NO!

No and yes. He was straight, wasn't he? Being attracted to Orlando meant nothing -- he was drunk, he was starved for sex and Orlando was Orlando.

Leaning back against the cheap panelling of the wall behind him, he closed his eyes, trying to discern the lyrics of the song currently roaring over the cheap sound system. Some banal rock song, loud and defiant rather that technically accomplished in any way.

_... Yeah, it smells like rock'n'roll  
Baby shake your ass for me  
Oh baby shake your ass for me  
You're like sex and rock'n'roll..._

Oh, but they were right. Orlando was like sex, like rock'n'roll -- addicting, exhausting, rebellious and loved for just those qualities.

He looked at the heaving mass of people thronging on the dance floor, and sure enough, there was Orlando, precariously balanced on a table with three other people. As their eyes met, incredibly, Orlando gave a brief, wide grin and leaped off the table, fearless, landing nimbly between the dancers. He was pushing through the crowd, in Sean's direction, merely smiling at all the gropes and pats he received on his journey.

Sean's fingers tightened around the pint he was holding, the glass slick with condensation and threatening to slip. His gut told him he did not want to be close to Orlando right now. God only knew what the boy would drag him into.

It turned out Orlando wasn't headed for him at all. The target was a chrome dancing-pole on a slight platform, an accessory aptly suited to the former purpose of the club. Ex-strip joint, current bar, Sean recalled with a small, rational part of his brain.

Another song now, less dance, more rock, screeching guitars and an insistent beat.

Sean thought he could take whatever Orlando was going to do. A little sillying around the pole and that would be it.

Christ. Sean didn't want to think about where Orlando had picked his dancing skills up. Decidedly illicit, this, every slide and every thrust of the narrow hips.

_...In your eyes I see a fire that burns  
To free the you  
That's wanting through..._

Sean blinked, gasping, as he realized he had been staring. He'd been transfixed, heat pooling low in his belly, that familiar burn of lust. Lust that had nothing to do with alcohol, only pure need and egoistical want.

Ohsweetmarymotherofgod, Orlando wasn't going to -- yes, he was, apparently.

Orlando had somehow managed to wring the shirt over his head in a movement erotic rather than awkward. A roar rose from the crowd, catcalls and shrill whistles echoing. And Orlando was loving every second of it as he continued, writhing, wrapping one long leg around the pole and bending back. Perspiration glimmering on the olive skin, catching the light and making him shimmer.

Sean wanted to see more, and he walked closer, shoving his way through the dancing crowd. The coloured lights sweeping the dance floor had been dimmed in favour of a bright spotlight aimed at the platform.

Of course.

Orlando had to have his own spotlight. He had to be noticed, and lived and thrived on the attention. All the makings of a perfect little diva.

Said diva winked at him mid-line, the brown eyes alcohol-brightened.

_... Snake, I am the snake  
Tempting  
That bite you take..._

Like breathing fire, the stuffy, smoke-filled air of the club suddenly holding far too little oxygen. The beat continued pounding through his entire body, shockwave after shockwave. The pint glass slipped unnoticed from his hand, shattering on the floor in a foaming pool of beer.

_...Be not afraid..._

He wasn't afraid. He was terrified.

_...I've got what you need  
Hunger I will feed..._

Even shirtless and sweaty, Orlando retained his elegance of movement.

Orlando's eyes locked on his as he stepped down off the platform, the people in his path obediently, reverently, stepping back to let him pass -- and they knew where he was going and there was no escape anymore.

A second of tense wait, and then Orlando slid close, wrapping his arms around Sean's neck and then leaping up, folding his legs around Sean's waist like a child in the arms of a parent. Sean immediately tensed up, and Orlando loosened his grip, spilling down Sean's body to stand on his own two feet. His arms stayed locked around Sean's neck, long fingers playing with the short ponytail Sean kept his presently longish hair in.

Hot skin against his arms and a warm mouth against his ear.

"Sean, look at me. That was for you... all for you."

Orlando was taking the piss, wasn't he? He was trying to make things worse, trying to get Sean flustered so he'd have fodder for torment later on.

Orlando was in his arms, warm and pliant and sweaty and shirtless. The young face so close, and without thinking he leaned in, slowly closing the last few inches between them, their lips finally meeting in a tender kiss. Like a dream, those movements, a slow glissade into bliss. Orlando's mouth was soft and he tasted of smoke and alcohol and *man*. Sean's hands tightened their grip on Orlando's waist, and all sounds, from the beat of the music to the loud whistles around them faded down to a steady hum inside his head.

So right and so wrong and damn it all if he wasn't falling.

Part of his life ended when the kiss did, and he gave a small sound of disappointment that was unannounced and unprepared for. A smile splitting Orlando's face, a grin of victory and triumph.

"I knew you'd come round to this eventually."

Sean didn't know what to reply, but was mercifully saved by Orlando pressing another impatient kiss to his mouth, and this time he went with it. He was going to stake his claim and prove that there was nothing to 'come round to'. At all.

Reality intruded on their shared dream, however, as the exasperated patron next to them soured.

"Get a room, will you?"

Orlando's bubbling laughter was answer enough for Sean.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_Do you mean what you say  
When there is no one around?_

Sean had only vague memories of the cab ride back. It wasn't because of the residual shock the kisses had caused, but Orlando's hands playing their tricks in the darkness of the back seat. He sat there, with a lapful of shadow and Orlando teasingly touching every part of him except the ones needing to be touched.

The driver didn't bother spying on them, and kept his eyes on the road.

There wasn't much protest from Sean as Orlando dragged him towards his trailer. All he could think of was how much the gravel under their feet crunched, and how he should laugh at how girlish Orlando's giggles were.

"Sean," Orlando cooed, saying it like it should be said, his real name, not the actor-mangle of it, "you're very distracted. I'm hurt."

"I'm not in the habit of doing this."

"Doing what?" Orlando asked, working the buttons of Sean's shirt open with one hand as the other looked for his keys, "sneaking home at night? Shagging in the cast trailer park?"

The last part hit Sean hard. So this wasn't just his own wishful thinking.

"You sound very certain," he retorted, pushing the door open with his shoulder.

"I am certain," Orlando said, shoving Sean back against the wall. The trailer was dark, but the frosty moonlight spilling in through the window afforded a small sliver of light for Orlando's face. There was a glint in the dark eyes, one Sean had never seen before.

Another heated kiss, the cunning fingers now done with unbuttoning the shirt sliding down his chest and continuing undaunted to the waistband of his trousers.

"I know what I want," Orlando said, the tone of his voice affording no room for misinterpretations, "and I know how to get it."

You're only around for the ride, so buckle up, boy.

Sean opened his mouth to voice a retort, but found words eluded him as Orlando's long fingers wrapped around his cock. His hips bucked reflexively, and he felt his face flush with shame. Wishing the darkness would hide his embarrassment, he leaned in, capturing Orlando's mouth for a kiss. Determined to fight fire with fire, he set his fingers to try and get Orlando out of his clothes as soon as possible. Orlando would have none of it, however, and began walking backwards, leading Sean along.

The fourteen steps from the front door to the bedroom seemed like a mile. They stopped once, Orlando pinning him to the wall, Sean's head impacting painfully with the cheap panelling. Kiss and grope and he didn't even know who was touching who. Orlando was as eager as he was, and low laughter rippled from his throat as Sean bit at the juncture between his neck and shoulder, the stubble of his beard scratching the sensitive skin. The kiss was likely hard enough to create a bruise, but Sean found he only liked the idea. He also found Orlando's nipples were extraordinarily sensitive, hardening into rosy peaks as soon as he drew a nail around the circle of the areola.

The last few steps to the bedroom were impatient shove-walking.

Sean yelped into Orlando's mouth as the edge of the bed caught him in the calves, and he tumbled back, his knees folding automatically as Orlando slid his thigh between Sean's legs.

The bed was too soft. Soft covers rose up to enfold him as Orlando straddled him.

Sean's hands moved to the waistband of Orlando's jeans, and Orlando took hold of the hands, yanking them away, pinning them back to both sides of Sean's head. Leaning in, nose to nose and lips so close, he whispered: "Ask for it". His mouth was so close Sean arched up, wanting, - needing - to complete the contact.

"Ask for it," Orlando repeated. "Ask me to fuck you. Ask me and I'll give it to you."

Sean closed his eyes. Shame burned his face as his hips bucked up and his mouth opened but no words came out. His teeth pressed into his lower lip, the breath hissing around the F but still no words. Orlando shifted, a slight tilt to his hips like he was leaning away, and panic gripped at Sean.

"Fuck me," he managed, "fuck me, Orlando." Darkness in his voice, almost a hostile plea, but he couldn't lose out now.

Orlando's mouth on his, again, soft and demanding at the same time, setting the pace. Not like kissing women, not even like he had imagined kissing men would be like -- this was nothing but hunger, with an underlying need to show what he was made of. Orlando twisted his hips, grinding his groin against Sean's, the friction setting off erratic synapses in Sean's already overheating brain.

"Stop teasing me!" he hissed, struggling against Orlando's hold, the soft pillows hampering his movement. "Do it!"

"In time, Sean," Orlando said, bending his head to the side of Sean's neck, sucking ravenously on the skin, creating another blossom of a bruise.

Eventually, Orlando let go of Sean's wrists, forsaking the dominance to fight open Sean's belt buckle. Sean slid his hands up Orlando's arms, testing the sleek muscles with his thumbs. Lean and sinuous, - slinky -, even. His train of thought was cut abruptly short as Orlando rocked back, disengaging the hold and kneeling up to divest Sean of his trousers.

Cool air across his thighs, and no time to think about how ridiculous he must have looked, sprawled flat out on his back with his pants around his ankles, before his boxers were gone as well. Orlando stumbled up off the bed, locking eyes with Sean as he undid the last two buttons of his jeans, leaving the pale denim to puddle at his feet. No underwear. Not surprising.

Kicking the jeans away, Orlando kneeled on the bed again, bathed for a brief second in grey-shaded light from the window. Sean's breath caught in his throat. Like a lean, shadow-striped beast, light glinting briefly in impossibly large dark eyes. Orlando was beautiful, Sean reflected, beautiful beyond gender standards. A pink tongue peeked out to lick at pale lips, the moistened lips parting in a whisper.

"I remember when I first saw you," Orlando said, voice soft, "I thought you had the most amazing eyes."

He crept closer to Sean, who still hadn't dared move. Casting caution to the wind, Sean reached up, wrapping his arms tightly around Orlando, his hands seeking to cover every available inch of skin. Like electricity, this skin on skin contact, and it seemed like every curve and hollow of their bodies fitted together. Their cocks met, sliding against each other in a slick bolt of pleasure.

"I thought you were the most beautiful being I had set eyes on," Sean confessed against the soft skin of Orlando's ear. " I couldn't concentrate on anything."

"You seemed more interested in Viggo, as I recall," Orlando said, leaning into the caress Sean's fingers were currently lavishing on the slightly stubbly side of Orlando's mohawked head.

"Evasion technique."

A breathless little chuckle in Sean's ear, then fingers along his side, drawing diagonally downwards until they encountered a slight indent. Spidering his long fingers out, Orlando possessively gripped the firm buttock, clearly enjoying the look on Sean's face.

One of Sean's hands was trapped under Orlando, and the other was now tracing a lazy circle around one of Orlando's nipples. As the questing hands strayed further, now dipping into the snug space between the buttocks, Sean tensed briefly, his fingers stilling. Orlando gave a slight smile and leaned in to kiss Sean again, tongue and fingers moving in tandem as he circled the tightly puckered opening.

"Relax, Sean," Orlando said, kissing the very tip of Sean's nose in a curiously coy gesture, considering the situation. Moving back, he slid out of Sean's grip, sliding to the side of the bed to fetch something from the bedside drawer.

If the situation hadn't been so strange and so tense, Sean would have laughed at the scene. His train of thought was cut abruptly short as Orlando turned to face him again, a slow, sultry smile on the enticing lips.

"Protection," Orlando said, his voice laughter and whisper and sex in one. The foil packet winked briefly in the shallow light. A faint click caught Sean's attention, and he opened his mouth to ask what it was, but Orlando dove in, sealing his mouth to Sean's in a kiss that left no room for questions or even rational thought.

As a slippery finger traced the cleft between his buttocks, stroking crisscross patterns over the tight ring of muscle, Sean found himself torn between pressing close to Orlando to deepen the kiss or rocking back to increase the pressure. He yelped as the first joint of a finger breached him, the sound deepening to a moan as the rest of the finger slid in smoothly. A tiny flick, and stars exploded behind Sean's closed eyelids.

"I like that sound," Orlando said, sounding slightly breathless, "Do it again."

Another finger joined the first, and the sensation of the digits scissoring had Sean groan aloud. Sensing the impatience, Orlando withdrew his fingers and gently urged Sean to roll over onto his back. Sean's knees fell apart as Orlando placed his palms on his thighs, and as Orlando settled between Sean's spread legs, Sean found he did not feel shamed in the least. The shock of their erections meeting and sliding together caused another blissful shower of sparks behind Sean's eyelids. Drawing a deep breath, he forced his eyes open. Orlando was there, flushed and tousled and aroused, and as Sean felt the press of Orlando's cock against his opening, he only nodded. Orlando had slid his hands under Sean, lifting his hips slightly.

The slow, careful slide of Orlando's cock into him had Sean give up thinking and only moan, the sound rumbling from somewhere deep in his chest. He threw his head back, his hands fisted in the bedcovers so hard his fingers felt numb. He heard Orlando draw a raspy breath.

"Jesus, Sean... do you have any idea how sexy that sounded?" Orlando said, the voice wavering with concentration.

Another slow thrust, angled to strike at his prostate, and Sean's eyes rolled back in his head. He hadn't felt anything like this... well, ever. Nothing so mind-blowingly intense the world seemed to have shrunk to include only him and Orlando inside him and in his arms. Untangling his hands from the covers, Sean wrapped his arms around Orlando's back, bringing the young man closer, their mouths meeting in another deep kiss. The sensation of his own cock trapped between their bodies, slick with sweat and precum, jolted him. In some dim corner of his mind he was thankful he didn't have to speak, because he wouldn't have been able to utter anything even remotely coherent.

As Orlando quickened the pace slightly, matching each stroke with a murderously inventive tongue twirl, Sean dug his fingers into Orlando's back, feeling the long muscles contract. Slight twitch as he touched the dimpled scars on the lower back. Skimming lower, he grasped Orlando's firm ass in a bid to get him even closer. A little more force behind the thrusts now, Orlando's polite restraint slipping. Every second thrust hit Sean's prostate, further speeding up the process that seemed to have Sean's brain turn into quivering goo.

"Oh god," Sean managed as Orlando threw his head back, the pace nothing less than frantic. The bed was creaking in angry protest. Giving a brief, toothy smile, Orlando reached down to stroke Sean's already weeping cock. Sean absentmindedly noted his grip on Orlando was hard enough to bruise, but he couldn't let go, couldn't get close enough. He couldn't have been close enough if he had been inside Orlando's skin.

Forcing himself to let go, he slid his hands up Orlando's back, cupping the wing-curves of the younger man's shoulder blades. His eyes were open, meeting Orlando's dark gaze, emerald against ebony.

Another deep kiss, Orlando biting into Sean's lower lip almost hard enough to draw blood, certainly hard enough to hurt, but the pain faded into warmth.

A muscle along the side of Orlando's face twitched once, twice, then his eyes went wide and unseeing.

It was what looking into a black hole must feel like, Sean had time to think before the sound of Orlando's low, husky moan sent him over the edge. A final thrust, hard and high and Orlando's fingers around his cock clenched one last time.

He arched back, feet planted against the mattress, his neck twisting amazingly painlessly to support both his and Orlando's weight. Shudder after long shudder, his hands holding on to Orlando's shoulders so hard he feared his thumbs would dislocate. Slick warmth between their bodies, spreading like the heat inside him.

Garbled nonsense from him, sounds primeval mixed with staccato syllables of pleading. He had no idea of what he was saying, but imagined it wasn't something he could use for dinner conversation. Orlando fared no better, panting out what sounded like "God" and "Sean" and possibly "fuck".

The tremors coursed through his body, one overlapping the next, and Orlando, slumped in his arms, was shaking as well. As they stilled, Sean drew Orlando into a loose embrace, spooning up behind him.

"That was... I --" Sean tried, his voice somewhat shaky.

"I know," Orlando smiled, taking Sean's hand and lacing his fingers with the older man's.

After a few moments of lazy struggling with the hopeless snarl the covers had become, they settled under the rumpled comforter. The warmth of Orlando's body and the languor permeating every limb had Sean falling asleep almost instantly.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_... What can I say  
I don't want to play anymore  
What can I say  
I'm heading for the door  
I can't stand this emotional violence  
Leave in silence ..._

He woke up with a start, his eyes snapping open. The room was dark, and he could see the soft smudge of red digits out of the corner of his eye. Turning his head to look at the alarm clock, he registered the numbers - 04.52 - but also that something seemed off.

A soft sigh called his attention to his immediate surroundings. Someone was lying next to him, sprawled over half the bed.

Orlando.

Orlando was still fast asleep, one foot dangling over the edge of the bed. He looked strange in the dim half-shadow of the room. The shadows pooled in every hollow of his body, adding years and years to the young frame.

As the realization hit Sean, he twisted around quickly, turning over onto his side. Sitting up, trying not to wake Orlando and trying to get out of the sheets that seemed to constrict him, he held his breath. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, wincing as the sudden movement reminded him in a less than pleasant way that he had been drinking the evening before. What the hell had he done?

The air of the small room was warm, almost stuffy, but a chill washed over him as he looked down on himself.

He had, then. With Orlando.

Sean dropped his head into his hands. No. Oh no. The kind of 'Oh no' that only comes with the benefit of hindsight. It was one thing to fuck a man for the thrill of it, and a wholly other one to get fucked by a mere boy. One he had sworn to himself not to get swayed by, no matter what. Ah yes, the second oldest lie in history. I won't get swayed.

Biting down on an angry curse, he stood up, trying desperately to find his clothes. Boxers -- halfway under a chair. Pants rumpled up next to the shirt in the narrow doorway. Dressing quickly and clumsily, Sean beat a hasty retreat to the front door, then stopped. Leaning his forehead against the doorframe, he breathed deeply.

_Bit late to panic now, isn't it?_

Pushing the thought out of his mind, he fumbled the door open. The night air was colder than he could remember it being before, and his wrongly buttoned shirt offered little protection. His heartbeat was thundering in his ears, a cold sweat breaking out on his body as a late panic reaction.

Why the hell was he panicking now? Now, when it was done? Christ, he was a grown man, not some nervous teenage punk hiding from his girlfriend's psychotic father.

In the twilight hours, he discovered the ceiling of his trailer had nine cracks, that two spiders held residence in the northernmost corner and that the rolled-up script didn't fit into his boot. Showering until the hot water ran out didn't help. Trying to make sense of the situation was impossible. Sleep -- well, that option had long since ceased to be valid.

He felt like chain-smoking, then like being sick, then realized the absurdity of the wish. His stomach knotted at the thought of the shoot tomorrow. Thankfully, the shots required dusk, and so the cast had been given the daylight hours off. Still, eight hours weren't going to erase the memory. Eight years couldn't erase it.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_... What can I say  
I don't want to play anymore..._

The oldest of old tricks. The cheapest of cheap tricks. Drinking. Dancing. Seduction. Only here a number of details were wrong -- so wrong. You do not seduce co-stars. You do not get seduced by your younger male co-star. And you most certainly do not get cold feet and treat him like air the next morning.

Sean Mark Bean, you are a coward. A bastard and a coward.

The mirror had no reply for him, and the bruise on the side of his neck was a fraction too high to be hidden by a regular collar. Like a brand, screaming out every detail of the nefarious deed.

His coffee tasted like ashes.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_You deserve an award  
For the role that you play..._

Pain curled in Sean's stomach as he approached the make-up trailer. Orlando would be there, and another painful confrontation would be there. Even his face in the mirror told him "traitor."

Why couldn't Orlando see that this would never work? He couldn't, and it had all been a drunken experiment. They had both been out of it and he couldn't be held responsible for any of his actions.

Could he?

He'd left, yes, sneaking out silently like he was a teenager out after curfew. He hadn't left a note. Hadn't been more than civil to Orlando the next day during shooting.

"You just left me there!" Orlando had yelled, the anger steepening the pitch of his voice. "And now you act like nothing ever happened, you fucking coward!"

And he'd talked to Orlando like he'd talked to his wife - no, wait, wives -, trying to be calm and reasonable and true to form he'd failed miserably. Yet again. He'd tried to let the boy down gently, and caught himself mid-thought as it dawned on him that Orlando was neither boy nor woman. Everything he did was done with passion, sound and fury. "Subtle" or "discreet" were not to be found in Orlando's vocabulary.

He, Sean, was the earth quenching Orlando's fire.

Fire.

Orlando was like a forest blaze. You either burned or hardened in his company, and right now Sean was feeling rather singed. Still, play with fire and you get burnt.

Why couldn't Orlando see nothing was going to progress from this? He, Sean, was a thrice-married man with three daughters. How could he possibly explain it? Lorna, Molly and Evie had certainly had enough with the divorces - telling them that Daddy had a boyfriend, let alone one young enough to be their older brother, wasn't an option. At all.

The leaden feeling in his stomach tripled as he stepped into the trailer, forcing an amiable smile on his face as he greeted the other cast members present.

Orlando, halfway into Legolas, was also there, sitting stock-still in the chair as the assistants fussed over trying not to get the glue into the wig.

Not a sign that Orlando had even acknowledged his presence. In an arcane way, it felt more exposing than if Orlando had thrown himself into Sean's lap right then and there.

Like he threw himself into your lap two nights ago. Only then you didn't resist, and for a short moment all was well with the world.

Sean flinched as the make-up assistant attempted to work a comb through the tangles in his hair. He didn't even have to close his eyes to recall the feeling of Orlando's slim hands fisted in his hair. How low had he stooped that night? And how much had he enjoyed it?

He had been the one taken. And there was no denying he had loved every ecstatic second of it.

And now he could hide it. He was an actor. He lived on being someone he wasn't. How much of a stretch would it be to play the part of the devoted family father? The part where he didn't feel like his heart had been ripped out, wrung, and shoved back.

"You deserve a fucking award for the role you play, Sean," Orlando hissed as they squeezed past each other in the narrow space of the trailer. The blue lenses Orlando wore for the part only intensified the flame in his eyes.

"For the facade you put up."

**Author's Note:**

> Lyrics are:  
> Emil Bulls: "Smells Like Rock'n'Roll"  
> Metallica: "Devil's Dance" (for those of you playing at home, it is the S&M version)  
> Depeche Mode: "Leave In Silence"  
> and Madonna: "Take A Bow", respectively.


End file.
